


Foolish, or Daring Hope?

by LadyPorpoise



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angel wing styled cloaks too?, Elves, Fingon has a wife, Fingon trusts older cousin too much maybe, Frostbite, Gen, His psych is messed up, Lowkey Bipolar, Maedhros saw some really nasty stuff and doesn't want to scar anyone else with it, Maedhros wishes he has what others have: innocence, Not enough platonic Maedhros and Fingon..., PTSD, Platonic Relationships, Pre Nirnaeth, The Noldor, guys being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28188042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPorpoise/pseuds/LadyPorpoise
Summary: Maedhros stands on a balcony. Fingon comes and finds him brooding. They have a chat.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Fingon's Wife
Kudos: 8





	Foolish, or Daring Hope?

**Author's Note:**

> Some things referred to my works on FFN: "A Last Barricade" Fingon goes inside Maedhros' mind a bit after being saved from Thangorodhrim. And "Mercy from on High" Fingon saves Maedhros. Thorondur is actually a Maia. Could bring those over here too if people want that...

A knight and a lady were by the fountain. It was a picture out of the old stories of romance, nobility. A beautiful scene indeed.

Maedhros watched from a balcony, hidden in the shadows by one of the bushes planted there. The lord of Himring felt many things watching the tender moment and hearing the words being exchanged by the lovers. One feeling was mild approval, that the elf-man and lady were trying to live happily despite the strife between kindreds. Though the Noldor’s hold on the enemy was returned after Beren and Lúthien’s boldness, it was fragile, and it could be broken again. Should that happen, high chances were these two elves would die in some way.

Other emotions and thoughts involved that they were foolish for doing this…Envy, maybe, that they retained some forms of innocence, where he did not. Pity, for the sorrow they were bound to experience.

“Brooding again, are you?” Maedhros heard Fingon.

Maedhros turned his head slightly. The high king wore the chain and crown telling of his station, and the eagle-winged shaped cloak on his back. The Fëanorian’s cousin was very magnificent in full regalia.

For those who did not really know the elf personally, though. Many of these things recalled things of the past, both sad and joyful.

Most the scars and frostbite were covered by an illusion, and Fingon only braided in silver strands in his hair instead of gold. Not only that, the stupid cloak only brought memories of them being foolish in Valinor in their youth. Many times, Fingon mostly, they were blown by the strong winds of Taniquetil and needed to be saved by the Maiar that were stationed around the holy mountain. Saved by their strength and taken to safety by their strong wings.

It just made Maedhros scoff mentally at the heroic picture people tried to paint Fingon, true though it may be. But they could have at least tried not to make Fingon akin to a Maia himself.

Even though he did seem to have favor with Manwë…and that Manwë answered the prayer instead of letting Fingon kill Maedhros…

Why was Fingon even wearing it right now? Just because they both knew how stupid it is, and that it got Maedhros to smirk or smile at times?

“Not anymore,” Maedhros admitted. He turned his gaze back to the couple below, still oblivious that they were being watched.

Fingon quietly walked to stand next to the taller elf. He said nothing yet seeing his cousin returned to the object that got him in a dark state to begin with. The king looked down. “It seems that hope is continuing to grow since Beren and Lúthien came back with a Silmaril.”

Maedhros snorted in dismissal, and as a warning.

Fingon side glanced at the lord of Himring. “You are not planning on disturbing them, are you?”

“If only we could,” Maedhros replied quietly, containing his irritation over the fact. “Between the girl and her power and the green-elves’ lore, we could not even if we wanted to.”

Fingon looked back down and allowed silence to reign. In time the elf man and lady left together to someplace else.

“Are you and Síwen ever going to have children?” Maedhros broke the silence between him and the king, his voice less hard, and more like how he used to be before Angband…before the rebellion even.

“If we did not during the centuries of peace, I do not think we will any time soon with the situation more precarious than it was.” Fingon replied evenly.

Maedhros kept staring down into the courtyard. “Although you have endured the loss of loved ones or strained relationships…I still pity you and the young couple that was just here. You at least can appreciate the pureness of it all, still have some family that you can rely on.”

“Do you not have Maglor with you? Is he not reliable? What of Amras?”

“I fear it will only be a matter of time before they too will be like the other three.” Maedhros responded bitterly. “In what form I do not know, and that is what unsettles me. Distract me not by changing the topic either.”

“You envy,” Fingon commented instead.

“Of course I envy. Why would I not?”

Fingon turned to his cousin. “You know it is within your ability to find a lady yourself, if you desire that connection.”

Maedhros shook his head, scoffing again. “Therein lies another curse.” He looked notably green then, ill. “T-the…I witnessed things no one should have to see. Such…profane acts towards something that should be held in such holy regard and-”

“You cannot unsee it, I know.” Fingon said gently. He got Maedhros to sit on the floor, and the king also sat on the floor against the balustrade.

Maedhros stared emptily at the air with a faraway gleam in his eye. Fingon quietly waited for his cousin to come back to himself, sorrowing over how twisted Maedhros had become, and not of his own will either.

Suffering in Angband and seeing all those abominations firsthand could not have been part of the Doom…could it? The Valar surely were not that cruel. They merely warned of the consequences that would happen if the Noldor continued their path.

Fingon took a deep breath and made a fist, the cold ache he had learned to live with growing across the frostbites, the pain like a deep ridge that cut to his bones. The desire to curl into a ball was very strong, but the king resisted it. It would not help Maedhros seeing him like that.

“I would not enjoy that type of intimacy, little one. I physically cannot, let alone mentally, emotionally…spiritually.” Maedhros finally spoke. “I could not condemn the woman I would be with…making her bound up to whatever damned end my house will end in. I could not live with that on my head every day, waiting for her to die in the cruelest way that would hurt me the most.”

“Then why harbor your envy about the matter? You only hurt yourself more unnecessarily.” Fingon asked stiffly, trying to swallow down his pain.

Maedhros looked at the king, frowning and knowing what was happening. He grabbed Fingon’s wrist. He had no answer for a long time. The rational parts of his mind knew it was stupid to harbor these thoughts and feelings toward subjects that he never cared about before. Stop wallowing in self-pity. Other parts…corrupted aspects, if not *things* that were not even a part of him, wanted to keep them.

It was part of what kept him alive. Without that…he had no drive, no desire to see this foolish errand to the end.

“They are chained to me like my hand was to that mountain.” Maedhros admitted reluctantly. “Unfortunately, I will have to die for them to go away and be free from it.” ‘Death to my soul, not just my body…’ he added mentally.

The pain subsided. Fingon stared hard at his cousin, and let the illusion drop. The wrist Maedhros’ held, the hand attached to it was the three fingered one. Fingon’s eyes became icy blue in some light, and the frostbites and cracks scattered across in patches.

“I did not give you a part of my soul to let you die, Maitimo.” Fingon said seriously, bringing to light their battle within the dreamscape, and Fingon imparting a bit of his own fëa to root Maedhros back to the land of the living in Mithrim all those years ago. “Especially not after this long. Your brothers and I will just have to make some more sophisticated blade that can cut those chains without you having to die in the process, because we still see you as you used to be, though you do not believe it when we tell you. There is still some Russandol that we can recover and bring back.”

Maedhros appeared incredulous. “You still treat me like I am king and not you.”

“For all your self-pity and your tortures, you still have a strong head on your shoulders, and I trust your judgement. I too share the same hope you have that we can assail Angband and end this once and for all, and you will be freed from the Oath and given some form of peace.”

Maedhros felt that unease, the self-doubt, grow. Fingon should not so easily put his life in his hands like that. Should not be so trusting… “The Valiant and most hopeful of Fingolfin’s line you remain still.”

Fingon smiled. “As long as I uphold the titles that everyone has deemed me fit to have…and doing good for goodness’ sake. I have my promise to do what the One wills to keep to Thorondor.”

Maybe the cloak was not so inappropriate anymore.

“The Valiant King should not be on the floor anymore then.” Maedhros stood.

“It helps me to remember my place, brother.” Fingon also stood.

Maedhros sighed. “Why must you make me kneel again to say you must not think that…”


End file.
